A Play of Shadow (60 page)

But a perfect little home, with an elegant table and chairs, a comfortable bed—presently occupied by a bewildering array of dogs and cats—and a tidy kitchen. Nothing would do but they sit and have a drink with their host.

Who gave her a perceptive look as their hands touched. “You are turn-born yet of this world.” Leott glanced at Bannan. “And a seer of truth.” He sat, fingers steepled together, his face intensely curious.

The yling chose that moment to perch on the tips of Leott’s fingers. Man and yling tilted their heads exactly the same way. “You’re a brave one, to travel so far.”

~I matter to our elder sister,~ the toad said at once.

Leott bowed to the purse sitting on the table, the toad having refused to budge from it. “You do, indeed, my courageous friend.”

“You can talk to toads too,” Jenn said with delight.

A modest touch of fingers to lion’s nose. “I listen.”

To more, she guessed, than toads.

Bannan leaned forward. “Are you a member of the Shadow Sect?”

A dog snarled and a cat hissed. Leott smiled at them and they subsided. “The sect sees a candlemaker,” he said simply. “They don’t see me. Few can.”

Explaining, Jenn realized, why others had walked by without noticing the marvel within. “Your candles. I’ve never seen such light.”

The yling flew to Bannan as Leott clapped his hands again. “Oh, but you have, Dear Hearts! You’ve traveled here from its true home.” A wink. “I heard.”

The Verge. The candle burned with its light. Jenn exchanged worried looks with Bannan, who said quickly, “Please be careful. There are those who seek what you’ve found.”

“Fear not for me.” The lion on his shoulders lay like a scarf, its huge eyes peaceful. “What I’ve found is my way to bring a little happiness to those who need it.” Leott lifted his cup. “All those who do, if they possess an open heart, will always find me and be welcome.”

A promise, Jenn realized in that moment, he’d made long ago and would keep, so long as he lived.

There was a bit of Marrowdell here, after all.

“I’m glad we’ve met,” she told him, and smiled from the bottom of her heart.

Their visit with Leott had been like a moment home, safe and at peace. Once they left, the mist-stroked stone and dark, secretive water of the Shadow District served to remind Bannan how far home was. They were on their own here.

Except for unspent coins and illegal tokens. A name and a now-silent brooch. Oh, and a staff, purseful of house toad, and a yling, though he’d no idea where the tiny thing presently hid and worried he’d sit on it.

All assets of unknown worth in Channen. Not so Jenn Nalynn. Stall after stall, artisans warmed to the sincerity of her interest and more than one had rushed after her with work they’d kept back for a special customer or hadn’t finished, but wasn’t it remarkable and would she place an order?

If he’d been a merchant in truth, he could have loaded a barge three times over. Being nothing of the sort, Bannan made sure to confer with his “apprentice” after every visit, shaking his head like a man sorely tempted but short on funds to forestall further importunities.

He’d been sincerely tempted to ask Leott for help, but hadn’t. Like Wainn, the gentle artisan was part of two worlds, yet not wholly in either. That Leott had avoided the notice of the Shadow Sect was a marvel; Bannan could only hope their visit, as Keepers, hadn’t exposed him. In no way would he risk embroiling the man further.

Besides, they’d a plan, once they found the token dealer. Bannan had Jenn ask a passerby about the bridge they sought, learning they were almost there. Now, more than ever, they had to act their parts, though he was heartily sick of being mute.

Lila was going to hear about this.

“Earrings!” Jenn stopped before the jeweler’s stall. “At last.”

The jump from dark plots and danger made Bannan blink. “Pardon?”

“I need earrings,” she pointed out.

“No one’s noticed,” Bannan managed. “You don’t have to—”

“I do,” with the faintly pitying look he remembered receiving from his sister at such times.

Without another word, Bannan gave her the lesser coins from his belt. He went to wait by the bakery across from the earring maker, there being chairs in front, and had almost lost the battle to resist the aromas wafting within when Jenn reappeared.

A fresh hot pastry might ease the sting of pierced ears. Bannan waved her to join him.

As she did, someone else moved aside. Subtle, that move, to stay at the edge of his sight without being obvious.

Familiar.

Bannan smiled warmly as Jenn approached, admired the dainty gold hoops in her ears, and marked the man well.

Friend, was the question.

Or foe?

The pastry brimmed with chewy nuts and crunchy sugar bits, as well as spices and a creamy cheese. They’d ordered tea as well, this being a bakery where one paid for food and it was brought. Jenn was torn which she enjoyed most: the treat or the new experience.

“Don’t look around,” Bannan said in a low, too-cheerful voice. “We’re being watched.”

Had he said it the other way around, she’d have looked at once. Jenn managed to finish her bite, keeping her eyes on the truthseer, then swallowed before asking, with what she felt admirable calm, “One of the Shadow Sect?”

“I doubt it. Appin said he’d send word to keep them away from us, to smooth our way with the token dealer.” As Bannan sipped his tea, his eyes flicked over her shoulder, then back to her. “Whoever’s watching, best we don’t let him know we’re aware.”

“How do we do that?” Jenn asked dubiously.

The corners of his mouth creased; amused, if not ready to smile. “We go about our business as if nothing’s wrong. He’ll keep his distance. I’ve naught but glimpses,” he went on. “A man, middle aged. Dark hair, shorter than most. Quietly dressed. Middling height and weight.”

Oh dear. “Did he pull out a gold clockwork?” Jenn asked, feeling her stomach roil.

Sharp. “Pardon?”

She grimaced and told of her encounter, finishing with, “I meant no harm.”

“And did none,” Bannan assured her. “If—if, being the word—this is the same man, we’ll both keep an eye out. It’s the watchers we haven’t spotted that worry me,” the truthseer admitted, finishing the ruin of her appetite.

Jenn ate the rest of her pastry anyway, washing it down with tea. A prudent adventurer—or villager, for that matter—never wasted food. It was an admirable saying. She wished she’d one from Aunt Sybb to take away the sensation between her shoulders of unseen eyes staring at her.

The whisper of cool metal against her neck was a distraction, happening each time she shook her head. Something she did surreptitiously, so as not to appear unfamiliar with earrings. Nor had there been need to poke a hole through her tender earlobe, as Appin had implied, though she’d girded herself for that unpleasantness. In a place where magic was poured into art, at least one artisan had created earrings that stayed where they were put without hurting at all.

The watcher, however?

Bannan put one of the square coins she’d brought back in change by their used plates, standing. “The next bridge is the ‘Seahorse.’ Birr’s stall should be on the other side. Here.” Blocking the sight of anyone else, he licked his thumb and used it to rub sugar dust from her nose.

The gesture was so like Peggs’ Jenn felt all the distance between them. Before she could be sad, she remembered Aunt Sybb, who always said home stayed in the heart, however far away, and smiled.

All too easy, this slip back into Captain Ash of the guard. If he hadn’t, Jenn . . . ? Bannan refused to follow the thought. He’d skills of no use to a farmer.

They were of use now.

As for the watcher he’d spotted, he’d know him again at a glance. Nondescript features, best for such work, but posture was hard to disguise. The one who watched them had either stood to patient attention at a guard post for hours or stood waiting on notice at court just as long.

Or both.

He’d observed the man slide a finger under his collar, though his modest clothing was well-fitted. Having fought the same impulse, the unusual garment at times feeling it was like to throttle him? Their watcher was Rhothan. He’d bet on it.

Jenn had done an admirable job of looking without being obvious, but they’d either lost their watcher or he’d fallen back to avoid notice. Was he the same she’d met?

And could this Rhothan be Emon’s, staking out this part of the market in hopes of—of what? Finding Lila?

Bannan made a frustrated sound in his throat and Jenn looked up. “What is it?”

“I’m half inclined to accost our new friend and ask his business. It may be the same as ours.”

A tiny frown. “And the other half?”

He laughed without humor. “Knows better than act in the dark.” Lila and Emon could be playing a deeper game than he guessed. They’d not thank him for interfering.

And be at greater risk, should he fumble.

He’d his own game, such as it was, Bannan reminded himself. With a most able partner.

They stopped under the bridge, not the only couple to linger away from the brighter lights. “Here are the tokens,” he said quietly, digging them from his belt. He snapped the strand of wool holding the three together. “Offer them all only if you must. The vial first. If you can, keep the starstone.”

She tucked the foul things into her bodice, between white lace and soft creamy skin, and he fought back a protest, saying instead, “Did you want to go over what to say again?”

A small smile. “I’m all right. We can do this,” Jenn told him, as if aware of his doubt.

“This” being Jenn to speak to the artisan, while he watched for lies. They’d have to both enter the stall. Bannan rubbed the back of his neck, above the collar. “Unless, seeing what we’ve to offer, Birr calls for the constables or the Shadow Sect. An honest man would.”

Dimples appeared in her cheeks. “Then let’s hope he’s not.”

Heart’s Blood, he loved this woman. “Let’s.”

The token dealer’s stall leaned against the stone wall of the stairs leading up to the bridge. For support, perhaps. More likely, Bannan thought, for the discreet movement of customers, wishings most often highly personal. Foliage hung almost to the roof, shadowing the stall from any lamplight above; though lit inside, rather than be open for the display of wares, the stall had a flap across the front, partially closed as if to discourage entrance.